


Through the Shine of the Sun

by Argyle



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1587707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argyle/pseuds/Argyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve goes on a mission. Bucky waits for him. And this isn't the whole truth; not by a long shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Shine of the Sun

It's almost dawn by the time Steve gets back from his mission. A jangle of keys, the turn of the lock. Booted feet too-softly thumping down the hall and into the bathroom. Water in the sink, and then: "Bucky!"

Bucky shifts his weight but doesn't cross over the threshold. He watches Steve fumble for a towel to pat his face dry and says, "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."

"And I didn't mean to wake you up," Steve says. Then he looks at Bucky, head to toe. "But I didn't, did I? Everything all right?"

"Nothing to report," Bucky agrees. In truth he'd scarcely slept in the seventy-two hours Steve had been gone, and it likely shows. He always gets a little dark around the eyes, taut around the mouth, when he goes that long without shuteye.

For his part, Steve doesn't look much better. He's down to mufti, the usual plaid shirt and leather jacket, but the shirt is slightly wrinkled, and he's missed a button as if he'd gotten dressed in a hurry. His knuckles are scuffed, red. Bucky reaches forward to take Steve's hand in his own. "What happened?"

Steve almost grins. "Nothing. It was just your average Rockefeller Center run-in. Dimwitted heavy has delusions of world domination and manages to start a couple of fires… Bruce did most of the work taking him down. I was just there for the photo op."

And this isn't the whole truth, not by a long shot. Steve's grin has shifted into something more like a grimace and Bucky is running the pad of his thumb over the scuffs that must've gone close to the bone before Steve's serum-charged cells got to work at healing him. Steve doesn't want to admit how bad the fight was—or that it was bad at all. Just like all the other times, he turns cheek and piles on that V for Victory charm, proud and brave: all for Bucky. He doesn't want Bucky to spend three whole days smoking cigarettes and pacing the apartment like a circus cat in a cage, his brain buzzing, unable to concentrate on any of the television shows Steve queued up for him; as if there was a chance in hell Bucky wouldn't do all that anyway. To think that Steve can't trust him with—

"It's all right," Steve says, and kisses him.

And just like all the other times, Bucky relents. Because he wants this. He pushes his tongue into Steve's mouth and gets both arms around Steve's back, shifting forward and up for a better angle until Steve is left panting; until they both are.

Against all odds, they're _here _.__

__Bucky's more than a little tempted to drop to his knees and bring them both off right there when Steve cuts in, "Jeez, I'm starved. There'd better be Chinese takeout staring back at me when I open the fridge."_ _

__"About that…" Bucky kisses Steve one more time and then follows him into the kitchen where the neat stack of bills Steve left for groceries is still resting, untouched, on the counter—minus the twelve and change Bucky spent on smokes. He knows well enough that the fridge is empty save for a bottle of ketchup, two overripe bananas, and half a quart of chocolate milk._ _

__"What've you been eating?" Steve balks, but then thinks better of it. "Wait. Forget I asked."_ _

__But Bucky tells him anyway: "'Breakfast of Champions.' What else?" His mouth curves into a thin smile. For the last six months, General Mills has been sending Wheaties by the case, the result of Steve agreeing to pose with the team – at Stark's insistence, because with S.H.I.E.L.D. fallen where the hell would the Avengers' operating budget come from if not their own ingenuity? – but refusing to accept any royalties that came out of the deal._ _

__Bucky doesn't exactly like the stuff. But he doesn't _not_ like it. Most of the time he has to remind himself to _taste_ what he's eating, and besides, Wheaties flakes haven't changed much since the thirties, especially when he palms them straight from the box and swallows them down dry._ _

__On the other hand, Steve went from chipper appreciation in the first week; to pragmatic commitment in the second month; to full-scale, bodily evasion by the fifth. Bucky always keeps a box on hand in the cupboard, ostensibly to get Steve's goat—but also: it isn't a bad picture._ _

__Now Steve's narrowing his eyes, pursing his lips in the way that means nothing if not that he's holding back laughter. "That'll teach me to leave you on your own."_ _

__Bucky says, slowly, "Then don't."_ _

__Steve pauses. And then: "Buck—Look, I can't quit now. Not when I'm needed." He raises a hand to Bucky's face, runs his fingers over Bucky's cheek and back through his hair. "Not when I have someone to fight for."_ _

__"Don't tell me Captain America's gone soft."_ _

__"Nope. He just has a soft spot for his best guy."_ _

__Bucky should bristle at the sentimentality. Really, he should. But he just leans into Steve's touch and they stand there for a minute. He takes in the steady in-out of Steve's breath and the hum of traffic outside, a rising patter as the city wakes up; and beneath that, the whirr of rotors in his metal arm: a constant reminder, a lingering horror, and maybe the least improbable aspect of his life._ _

__They're saved by Steve's stomach. There's a murmur followed by a rumble, and Steve lets out an abashed huff of breath. "Feel up to taking a walk?"_ _

__"Sure," says Bucky._ _

__So they do. Half a block away, Steve coaxes Bucky's hand – his real hand – from his pocket and presses it gently. Bucky keeps the other one tucked away._ _

__"Best crullers in the city, I swear," Steve's saying. "And the bread? As good as any I had in France all those years ago."_ _

__Bucky nods. He doesn't have much of an opinion on baked goods, but he's grateful for Steve's persistence—and the feel of his warm, dry grip. There are so many things Steve doesn't know, or has only glimpsed in half-measures. Things Bucky hasn't told him. The things he _saw_ but can't summon, great swaths of himself occasionally spotted, here and gone like barrier islands in rough seas, which he can't name._ _

__But it's good to sit with Steve as the blue morning light turns gold. There's a bag of doughnuts on the bench between them and Steve is on his second, maybe his third. He says, "Well?"_ _

__Bucky looks up. "Huh?"_ _

__Downing the dregs of his coffee, Steve repeats, "What do you think?"_ _

__And Bucky realizes that without noticing, he's already munched his cruller down to the end. He lifts it to his mouth, tastes the air-light pastry and perfectly sweet glaze. Sure, it's delicious—or more than that. Maybe it's the best fucking thing he's ever eaten in his life._ _

__The thought is startling. It makes him sick._ _

__It makes him want to lean forward and taste it on Steve's lips, and wish he could know how _Steve_ tastes it. But he says, "Not bad," not lying._ _

__A while later, when Steve says, "Last one's all yours," Bucky splits it with him anyway. Steve takes the proffered half. He swallows it down in one bite, wipes his fingertips and mouth with a paper napkin – his knuckles by now completely healed – and smiles. "Thanks, pal."_ _

__"No sweat," says Bucky, and it's wrong, he isn't anything he was but he still leans forward, revels in the gall of it, and Steve tastes like nothing if not Steve himself. And then, "D'you mind if we stay a while longer?"_ _

__A small crowd has gathered in the park, people jogging and walking their dogs and lingering by the fountain as it spits refracted light over the surrounding flagstones. No one seems to notice that there's a celebrity amongst their ranks, or that he's sat beside a known enemy of the state—both full and glad for it._ _

__"Sure," says Steve. "Yeah, Buck. Of course."_ _

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the National's [Runaway.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dC4bHlNCr4)


End file.
